Thanks for the review theworstwitch!

written

flashbacks

dreams

'thoughts'

Warnings for child abuse, language, rape, violence, self-harm, suicide, insanity, murder, character death and torture.

Fifth year was over. He had to go back.

"I'll come to check on you."

"No. I know what he does to you."

"I'm used to it. I will come."

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Lucius was waiting at platform 9 3/4. Seeing his son he grabbed his arm roughly and apperated them both away.

An instant latter they were standing in the entrance hall of the Malfoy manor. A harsh slap to the face. "Get yourself presentable! We are hosting a dinner party tonight and I do not want to greet the guests alone."

Confusion showed in Draco's silvery eyes. "Won't mother be there?"

Malfoy paused. "Hasn't anyone told you yet? Narcissus died two months ago."

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"Hi Draco. How are you feeling?"

A blood smeared face looked up groggily, searching for the source of the words.

"Harry? I don't understand. Why are you here?"

"I'm not really here."

"What? Where are you?"

He crouched down in front of the other boy, pointed to his bruised forehead. "I'm in there."

"I'm imagining you..."

"Yea."

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"You're not fit to carry Malfoy blood! You're a useless traitor!"

The silver head of the cane hit him again and again.

"Crucio!"

He convulsed on the floor.

"You will serve the Dark Lord."

Another blow shattered the humerus bone in his right arm.

"Why are you smiling?"

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"You shouldn't have come, I'm fine."

"Draco..." Snape leaned against the wall, his robe just as ripped as the last time. There was a lot of dried blood on his face. "You're not fine."

The teenager was lying in the middle of the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Even ignoring the injuries he looked starved and ill. "Aren't those stars amazing?"

"We're inside."

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He'd broken the mirror. Or maybe that had been his father. Listlessly he picked up a shard, stared at his reflection. Suddenly it winked at him. In shock he dropped the fragment of silvered glass.

"Hello."

His head spun round. His reflection was standing there, looking down at him.

The likeness wasn't exact though. Draco's clothes, though made of expensive material, were torn and filthy as he hadn't bothered to change them in days. His hair was matted around his face. The double however, was perfectly groomed. And there were no bruises or cuts marring his skin.

"Who are you?"

"I'm you," he smirked, " well the image you present to the world. I'm the perfect pure-blood. I'm beautiful and arrogant. I'm mallicious and cold. I'm all anyone sees. I protect you from them. And I'm so much better than you, so much better than a frightened little child."

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I can't take it anymore.

"It's ok. Don't cry." Harry wrapped his arms around the shuddering boy. He leaned into the embrace. After a few minutes the tears stopped. "You're not real," he whispered. "I'm losing my mind. Mother's gone. I'm left here all alone. And reality seems like the very thinnest sheet of fabric."